What Might Have Been and What is Now
by LykkeLettuce
Summary: Rachel is perfectly happy with her life in New York! Her Broadway debut is inevitable and she has a wonderful relationship with Puck. Someone from Puck's past reenters his life, ruins their bliss, and confuses things. This story is about how people tend to value an idea/ideal of a person, sexuality, and friendship. Faberry. Mainly R, Q, and P but maybe others too. First story ever.
1. The One That Got Away

**Chapter 1: The One That Got Away**

 **Rachel**

Rachel is in such high spirits tonight. Walking along the streets of New York, Rachel wonders how she ever lived apart from this place. Apart from the bright lights, boisterous noise, and bickering people of this city. It's everything Lima was not, and never would be. Her heart seizes at the thought of the few happy memories she holds from Lima. But New York City quickly lifts her. She can feel the pulse of the city beat long with her footsteps even as the crisp wind whips around her.

 _Yeah_. She'll never leave. That's what she decides. Not ever. Not a movie role or failure on Broadway (she chuckles at the ridiculousness of the thought; she was BORN for this) or even another Finn Hudson will pull her away from this place. Away from her home. She breathes in deeply to steady herself, as she always has to when her thoughts stray to a young Finn Hudson. She's able to look back now, of course, and see his faults. But she knows that Finn loved her like no boy before him had, and like no one had since.

Things are pretty good with Noah, though. She'd met him after securing a standing Friday night spot at a club called _Rumba_. No, he wasn't a performer like she'd dreamed (though he could carry a tune surprisingly well), and he was just the club's bouncer, but Noah was a catch. Women practically undressed him visually when they were out together; his eyes never strayed from her. He made her feel so loved and protected. She knew she was a lucky lady. What he lacked in what younger Rachel would have called "leading man potential," Noah made up for in charm, swagger, and overall attractiveness. Aside from the fact that he insists that everyone call him "Puck," Rachel is pretty sure she's finally found someone she could build a life with. Rachel smiles and snuggles her scarf more securely around her neck as she continues to brace herself against the wind. Yes, her eyes water, and her nose is numb, but she lives in New York and she's in a relationship with Noah Puckerman. Life is grand.

She heaves a sigh of relief as she reaches Noah's building. He'd invited her over earlier, but she had planned to stay at her place tonight to catch up on rest. But now she's just buzzing with energy after her audition today. No, she doesn't know if she's won the part yet, but she just _feels_ it. She'd absolutely knocked it out of the park. They will hear no one better. She stops to ring up to Noah so he can buzz her in, but thinks twice since this _is_ a surprise, and he _had_ given her a key.

Rachel makes her way up to his apartment, 418, and stops, suddenly shy. Underneath her perfectly respectable outfit, silky white lingerie hugs her curves. She and Noah already had a pretty colorful sexual relationship but she wanted to do a little something extra for him tonight. He'd been endlessly supportive of her lately while she readied herself for a slew of auditions. Though she was worried about what the lack of quality time together would do to their relationship, Noah had reassured her over and over that nothing would change, that he understood her dreams, and that she should have them. God, she _loved_ him. Tonight, she'd let him have his way with her. Whatever, whenever. She couldn't wait to close their distance tonight, and claim one another again. It honestly felt like forever.

Banishing the remaining nerves, she pulls out the sparkly gold key he'd gifted her. She smiles as the key glints in the low light and unlocks the door. The apartment is dim, but by this point, Rachel knows the place like her own. She noiselessly sheds her scarf and jacket at the door. She expertly sidesteps what she knows is Puck's gym bag in the hallway and drops her overnight bag down next to it. Nerves resurface, but Rachel Berry is most definitely _not_ one to back down from a performance. She slides off her sweats, t-shirt, and shoes, and musses her hair sexily (she thinks) as she tiptoes to Noah's bedroom.

Looking like sex on a stick, Rachel pushes the door open gently. Her heart melts at the sight. Noah is fast asleep. He's so large, a tad intimidating, actually, but he looks so cute and harmless in this moment. She slides onto the foot of the bed to wake him up with a little surprise, when her nose catches a peculiar scent in the air. Noah's room reeks of sex. Hot, fresh sex. Rachel quickly repels from the bed as if scalded. Her mind begins to race. To justify the presence of this unmistakable smell on a man who is unmistakably hers.

She knows she has a tendency to overreact. She knows this. Her life is theater, for crying out loud. She knows this so she reasons with herself to remain calm. Her heart is imploding, and her eyes are watering. He wouldn't. He always swore he'd never cheat on her. Her resolve begins to leave her body as she realizes she's wearing lingerie. For the first time since she entered the apartment, she feels cold. The cold air is stinging her nearly naked body, and she feels ridiculously stupid. From the far corner of the room, Rachel notices the bathroom door open to reveal a blonde goddess.

 _Well, fuck._ She gives this woman a once over, and her first thought is that she can't really be mad at Noah. I mean, this woman is gorgeous. Without contest, the most beautiful woman Rachel's ever seen. So beautiful, Rachel would instantly feel self-conscious even if she were fully dressed. Her second thought is that this woman can do so much better than Noah. She should be on the arm of Johnny Depp. Or Leo. Or Brad. _Or Angelina._ Not some no talent, New York club bouncer who calls himself Puck! That was mean; surely these are her emotions talking. Her emotions are all over the place, and she's thanking the gods for her impeccable theater training, hoping her poker face is on point. She drags her eyes back up to this woman's face. _My goodness, she's gorgeous,_ Rachel thinks. What kind of woman is she to even be thinking like this right now? All logical signs are telling her that her boyfriend of nearly two fucking years just cheated on her with some random (absolutely gorgeous) blonde, and all she can do is ogle the woman?! Startled hazel eyes land on her. The blonde is on high alert, obviously frightened by Rachel's sudden appearance, and then, as she takes in Rachel's lack of clothing and her crushed facial expression, her eyes soften. She sways a little and holds up an unsteady hand. _She's drunk._

Rachel gets the distinct impression that this woman has been here before. Here, as in this situation. Not here, as in this room. Though, who knows? She obviously doesn't. Because the woman shouldn't even be here now. The woman looks heartbroken, as if she'd just caught _her_ boyfriend with a woman ten times more beautiful than her. Her voice is delicate and broken as she whispers, "I _swear_ I didn't know he had a –"

Rachel's bravado comes out to play as she folds her arms across her chest. She interrupts coolly, calmly, "But he did."

The two women stare at each other, each at a loss for words. Rachel's struggling to not be angry at this woman. But shouldn't she be? How could she not be?! She's angry at someone, damn it.

As they hear the bed sheets rustle, they both turn their heads. Rachel remembers who's earned her anger. Noah stretches his stupid, over-sized arms in the air as his vision focuses on Rachel. "Babe?" he inquires sleepily, but warmly, and she can see that he loves her. She can hear it in his voice, see it in his sleepy face as his eyes take her in. That's why this hurts so much. Why would he do this? He seems bewildered by the heated look of pure anger that has taken over Rachel's face. Never. If this is angry, he's sure he's absolutely _never_ seen her angry before. Not like this.

The blonde woman probably feels out of place. _As she should,_ Rachel thinks, with an imperceptible head nod. "Yeah, you guys need to…talk."

At the sound of the woman's voice, Noah's head whips over to where she stands near the bathroom. Realization dawns as his head bobs dumbly between the two women. "Quinn…shit. FUCK." He scrambles up and out of the bed as he positions himself in front of Rachel, presumably preparing to beg.

Rachel feels the wind move through the room as the woman – Quinn, apparently— makes her way out of the bedroom. Rachel listens as Quinn gathers some things from the living room, perhaps, and quietly lets herself out of the front door.

"It didn't mean anything. Rach? Rachel, baby, you gotta believe me. That didn't mean anything and I fucking love you. You're the only one I want, Rachel Berry." He's really hysterical. He obviously thinks he means it.

"That obviously isn't true, Noah!" She cries pathetically. "Who is she?" If Rachel was the Rachel she was ten years ago, she'd let him grovel for the drama of it all and grant her forgiveness after being publicly serenaded. For who knows if she'd ever find someone else to love her. THIS Rachel does not give a fuck. This Rachel knows that she deserves better, and she shall have it. She looks at him on his knees, and the rage boiling in her subsides, leaving only pain. _I'm done,_ she realizes as she feels the tears falling from her brown eyes.

"You know what? Don't answer that. I cannot do this right now." She runs into the hall and quickly redresses so he can't follow her. By the time he gets a pair of boxers on, she already has her hand on the front door.

"Little Star, I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I'll do anything," he pleads. His eyes are full of truth and tears. She actually believes him, but it doesn't make her reconsider leaving. His hands are in the air, and he cautiously approaches her like one would an animal in the wild. Rachel simply looks back at him, and shakes her head. She's so hurt. So. Fucking. Hurt. Her eyes lock onto his and she says sincerely, "Screw you, Puck," and exits the apartment. She takes a deep breath, but the tears keep coming. They keep coming, and they won't stop. She usually walks to her apartment, but not tonight. She's not about to stumble blearily through the streets of New York City at night looking like some blubbering raccoon. Even in the depths of her mind, Rachel is aware that her public image will be vital someday soon. She keeps it together long enough to hail a cab, and she barely gets her address out before she collapses into a fit of uncontrollable sobs. 

**Puck**

Puck knows he's fucked everything up. Everything. He knows it, and for the first time in his life, he truly regrets something. He knows that he and Rachel had barely seen each other lately, and he had needs. Needs Rachel had apparently come over to attend to. But he never planned to cheat on her. It was one of the only things he's always promised her. To never cheat, and to always support her dreams. God, he's such an idiot.

He ran into Quinn, and things just sort of happened. Quinn Fabray had always been THE girl for Puck. Not the girl, like his one and only, or whatever, but the girl, like the one he wanted in high school and never got. Everyone's got one. His ability to bag this woman was like the measure of his success in life. How far have you come Noah Puckerman? Can you finally get THE Quinn Fabray? Quinn Fabray was flawless. A dream. She was legendary. And time had been very good to her. Where she was popular and polite in high school, she was now successful and confident, sexy. She's grown into her utmost potential, and the world had made room around her. That girl was amazing. His high school crush, the one that got away. And he'd fucked her. And now he felt grossly disappointed in himself.

Whatever Quinn was to his teenage self, Rachel is to his current and future self _._ He's always known Rachel is too good for him, and still, she gave him a chance. No matter how far he'd come, what kind of man he'd become, he'd disappointed himself in the same way his father had disappointed him and his mother. What a shame. He knew Rachel was it. She was it, and she was everything. But his pride would not settle. His pride would not let Quinn Fabray walk away without trying his luck. His new persona, Puck. He'd worked out relentlessly, ate right, worked long hours, it felt, all to become a man that could bag Quinn Fabray. He was successful. He thinks he would have rather made all those changes, and ended up being the guy that deserved Rachel Berry. But he knows deep down that perhaps he'd never deserve her.

He was sure he could explain this away; grovel and make it up. Maybe even sing heartfelt song to her in public. But as Rachel looked at him that last time, with such hurt and disappointment clouding her eyes, his certainty dwindled. She looked at him like he was unrecognizable. And then she'd called him what she never had…Puck. 

**Quinn**

Quinn leaves the room, grabs her purse, and reaches for the front door, all in haste. No way does she want to be a part of the cry and beg fest that's sure to commence. As the door shuts behind her, she hears those words she hates. The ones that reduce her to a common whore. _It didn't mean anything._

Of course, she knows it didn't; they'd both been drinking. But she never thought the man she remembered as the sweetest guy on their high school football team would ever use those words to describe a night with her. I mean, right? She's _Quinn Fabray._ People always said that like it meant something. It does mean something. To someone, maybe her father. It honestly doesn't feel like it means shit to her.

She'd literally bumped into Noah Puckerman, who now insisted that his name was Puck, outside of some club called _Rumba_. She'd gone in to dance a little with some girlfriends, and when the club closed, she'd stayed behind, having spotted him again. He'd seemed nervous. She thought it was cute, because he didn't really need to be. He was not who she remembered in high school. He had grown into his looks exceptionally well, gotten taller and more muscular, and stopped sporting that ridiculous Mohawk. He was handsome. She knew why he was nervous, though. Because no matter who he grew up to become, she was still Quinn Fabray. It seemed everyone was allowed to grow into actual people, except her. She was stuck as some figure, some ideal, some goal from her peers' high school years. She did her best to put him at ease as they shared a cigarette outside of the club. He slowly began to relax, and she could see him for what he was. Still the same sweet, funny guy from high school, only now he was confident and attractive.

Quinn wanted him to understand that they could be the people they are today, that she liked the man that he had become, and secretly, she had hoped that he liked the woman she had become. But, no. _It didn't mean anything._ His claim showed her that even Noah Puckerman still saw her as _Quinn Fabray_. Some notch above his best post, she supposed. He'd risked his relationship to fulfill a teenage dream. What an idiot. His girlfriend was beautiful, stunning even. The type of girl a guy would marry, not just fuck, and then claim, "It didn't mean anything." That's who she wanted to be. Not some bucket list goal for the three hundred odd guys in her graduating class. Hello? They'd graduated like ten years ago. Could these people not just get with the now?

For some reason, the sight of Puckerman's girlfriend had devastated Quinn. She owed the girl nothing, after all. She had honestly not known he was in a relationship. Still, she'd never forget the woman's beautiful face as she pieced together what had happened tonight. Regret and guilt flood Quinn's body as she walks the long way home, letting the cold air sting her skin and sober her up. It was the first walk home during which she'd truly felt ashamed.


	2. Warfaire

Author's note: This chapter is just to let you know where our characters are following the events of the first chapter. Thanks to those who reviewed/followed. It really means a lot. I am new to this, so feedback lets me know if I should continue or not. Okay. On with the show…Enjoy!

 **Chapter 2: Warfaire**

 **Rachel**

 _'You've reached the Rachel Berry. Kindly, leave your name, number, and the nature of your business at the designated 'beep,' and I'll return your call at my earliest convenience.'_

 __  
'Beeeep'

"Hey, Rach, sweetie, it's Kurt. Uhhh...ya missed Musical Monday, and I'm kind of worried. Puck called me this morning. He didn't really say too much, but he sounded bad. Call me, please, and let me know what the hell's going on. Or at least if I should be mad at him. Love you."

"Babe, I love you and I'm so sorry. I don't give a fuck about her. Quinn means nothing to me. It was stupid and selfish of me. It was the first and last time I ever hurt you. Please forgive me, Rach. At least pick up the phone. I really am lost without you. I miss you so much. Please..."

"Good afternoon, THE Rachel Berry, this is Ron Brentoff following up on your audition last week. I'm sorry to inform you that we've decided to go in another direction for the part of Lea. I'm doing the courtesy of calling you personally, because I thought your audition was superb, really. You just didn't quite fit the bill. Good luck."

Rachel deletes all of the messages in her voicemail. She then checks her text messages and missed calls. Several texts from her parents and friends expressing varying degrees of worry. 18 missed calls from Noah, 2 from her dads, 3 from Kurt, and 1 from a number she doesn't recognize, Mr. Brentoff, she supposes bitterly. She proceeds to turn her phone off again. She'd come up for air soon enough. For now, she'd wallow. _I'm entitled_ , she pouts.

She's been in bed for two days. Two. Days. She hadn't even attempted her 6am elliptical routine. Or performed any kind of hygiene practices. No. This would not do. She's Rachel Berry, damn it. This simply would not do.

She drags herself from the safety and comfort of her bed and shuffles over to her bathroom. One look in the mirror confirms it. _This will not do_. She looks like death. What's left of her eyeliner is still smeared around puffy eyes, her nose is pink and raw from, and her hair. Oh Barbra, her hair. She decides that she must leave this apartment. Regardless of how haggard she looks or how devastated she feels, she needs to get herself together. Grabbing her phone and powering it on, she makes the decision not to shut the world out. The sun will come out, right? She sure hopes so.

She taps out a text to Kurt letting him know she'd be over in about an hour, and not even waiting for confirmation, she jumps into the shower, determined to wash and scrub until she resembles THE Rachel Berry again. After the shower, she feels much better. Not devastated, just somewhat numb. She quickly dresses in jeans and a pink sweater, pink usually makes her feel better, and throws her already curling hair into a messy bun. All fresh faced and clean, Rachel grabs her purse and heads out to Kurt's.

The walk over is about twenty minutes. She takes the time to mull over the past few days. Everything she knew was proven false. She could not fail on Broadway, false. She had a loving and loyal boyfriend, also false. The cornerstones of her existence in New York were crumbling. So she fled to the last one she could count on: Kurt. And, by extension, Blaine.

She arrives at their door without remembering much of her walk. She knocks loudly, suddenly anxious to get inside. There's a long pause before someone answers. And then there's Kurt. In his silk rob and plush house slippers. He's so adorable, she thinks. He takes one look at her and gasps; he knows something awful has happened in the world. Kurt holds his arms out just as Rachel seems ready to collapse. She buries herself into him and unleashes her tears.

"Oh, honey, what happened?" Kurt's heart shatters as he feels powerful sobs rack Rachel's tiny form. Turning her around, and kicking the door shut with his foot, he leads her to the couch, where Blaine also sits, watching them with concerned eyes. They both catch the words "Noah" "goddess" "ugly" and "Barbra." The rest is unintelligible. The two boyfriends trade quizzical looks over Rachel's head. Neither knows what to do. They hadn't seen her like this since Finn had...gone. After a few minutes of rubbing Rachel's arm and whispering softly to her, Blaine removes himself from the couch.

"Sweetheart, I have to get to work," he says lowly. "If you guys need anything, text me." His eyes widen as he silently signals firmly for Kurt to call him, to which Kurt quickly nods his understanding. Blaine grabs his satchel, places a kiss to Kurt's waiting lips, and then a quick one to the top of Rachel's head, and he's out the door.

Suddenly, Kurt is alone with an empty Rachel and her cries. _Oh Barbra,_ he thinks. But his job for the day turns out to be fairly simple. Hold Rachel. Just hold her. Because after about another half an hour of crying, she falls asleep again. Kurt carefully untangles himself from her, and moves to the hallway to grab a blanket from the closet. He places it over her and stands back, watching her sleep for a moment, worry creasing his face. He walks into the bedroom and picks up his cell phone. Taking a deep breath, he scrolls to the number he needs, and taps dial. As the phone rings, Kurt feels his anger building.

"Sup, Kurtus Fabulous, or Fagulous, if you prefer," Pucks taunts halfheartedly.

Kurt rolls his eyes. He is in no mood to entertain him or give in to his stupid humor and charm. Not when Rachel has practically just cried herself into a damn coma on his couch. "Explain yourself, Puckerman." 

Puck gulps.

 **Puck**

Puck is instantly apologetic. "Kurt, I fucked up."

"Yes, I gathered as much from our last conversation, Puckerman. What did you do to my friend? She just practically collapsed into my apartment and cried herself to sleep!"

Puck's voice sounds anguished when he replies, "Holy fuck, Kurt. I really fucked up." His voice is coming out as more of a whine now. It would be comical to Kurt under different circumstances.

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to."

"Don't you think I've TRIED?!"

"Puck, just WHAT did you do?"

"Umm, well. Rachel came over unexpectedly the other night. And I'd been drinking- well no, that's no excuse. She came over, and I had made a mistake. A stupid fucking mistake. And she...umm...saw my mistake. Coming out of the bathroom." His voice is laced with guilt and shame. _It fucking should be_ , Kurt thinks.

Kurt hears nothing for a few seconds. White noise. Puck? Rachel's rough-around-the-edges, but loving boyfriend? The man who'd begun to rival Finn in the epics of Rachel's great loves had cheated on her? Their relationship was envied by all who met them. Everyone commented on how lucky they BOTH were. And he ruined it for a late night romp? What an idiot.

"Well, I certainly hope she was worth it, Puck."

"No one ever could have been," he squeaks miserably.

"Then, why, Puck. Oh, my God, why would you...?"

"I forgot you're so fucking perfect, Kurt!"

"I never said-"

"No, you're just trying to lecture me. I know what I did. And you can't make me feel any shitter than I already do. So stop."

"Okay, you're right. I guess, this is between you and her."

"I just-Kurt, I just got swept up in the past. But I know now. I know Rachel is who I want and who I need. I just don't think she'll forgive me. Do you think she'd see me?"

Kurt sighs as he runs a pale hand through his hair. "Puck, I'm honestly not sure. She hasn't said much yet. She seems pretty bad."

"Kurt. Be a bro, man. Talk to her. I'm not justifying what I did; I just want a chance to make it it up to her. I'm willing. And I'm begging."

"I'll see what I can do, Puck, but I promise nothing. This is your fault, and it should really be up to you to fix it."

"Thanks, Kurt."

"Yes, yes. Goodbye, Puckerman."

Kurt quickly ends the call as he struggles to gather his thoughts. Rachel, his platonic soulmate, is in pieces on his couch. The only time he's ever seen her more devastated was when she found out Finn had died. He's crushed for her. He can't imagine if Blaine...he doesn't even want to think about it. No. He will do Puck no favors. He has no idea what to make of this whole mess. Puck had become like a big brother to him, with the way they bickered and teased. He really likes Puck. God. Everything was falling apart. Kurt moves to head back to the living room before thinking twice, and standing in front of his mirror. He inspects his face for lines. None. _Really? Hmm._ He feels them.

 **Quinn**

Quinn's laid off the partying for the last few days. She hasn't much been in the mood. Get off of work, prepare dinner for one, curl up with a book. Rinse and repeat. This life is simple, albeit a little boring. But nothing bad happens. Apparently leaving her house invites trouble.

She hates to be one of those woe-is-me girls, but lately life has not been going her way. She also hates to seem conceited. She knows that her form is aesthetically pleasing. She doesn't like to brag on that fact, but she won't downplay her beauty either. Everywhere she goes, there seems to be some guy staring at her and some girlfriend getting mad. Or even just girls who see her and, then instantly and inexplicably hate her. She does not understand. It's why she has very few female friends. How sad.

Every time she closes her eyes, she sees the face of Noah Puckerman's girlfriend. Why? Hell, she doesn't know. The girl is haunting her. Perhaps her conscience is telling her she should apologize..? Quinn shakes her head at the thought. Puckerman should be apologizing to both of them. Instead, there's been radio silence from him. Some date, Quinn thinks humorlessly. As much as she hates to reduce herself to her high school imprint, she's _Quinn Fabray_. Noah Puckerman had fucked the Quinn Fabray, and he didn't even bother to contact her afterwards. No "that was amazing and everything I always dreamed it'd be!" No "that was fun, maybe we can do it again sometime?" Not even an "I'm sorry; I have a girlfriend, and that never should have happened." Nothing. That must be some fucking girlfriend he has. Or most likely, HAD.

As Quinn recalls the ranges of emotions that shot through the girl's expressive brown eyes, she doubts there will be any reconciling. No offense to Noah Puckerman, but Quinn thinks that maybe that girl deserves better. Like, someone who won't jump at the first opportunity to sleep with some cheerleader he hasn't seen in ten years when he's obviously in a serious enough relationship to have given his girlfriend a key to his apartment. But, that's just her opinion.

Quinn feels guilty at coming in between their relationship. For all she knows, it could have been perfect. And she ruined it. And why? She keeps asking herself. Why did she sleep with him? It's probably just because she didn't have a reason not to. Simply because she could. He was funny, but not the funniest. Charming, but no prince. Cute and fit, but certainly nothing she couldn't resist. Or hadn't resisted before. Perhaps it was the familiarity of him. Was she that fucked up? That she'd sleep with any nice enough guy from her past in search of some sort of approval.

This is why she hates spending too much time in. She starts to think, and analyze herself, and she usually doesn't much like what she comes up with. That she just wants someone to love her. To love her, who she is, not her who she was or should or could be. If Noah would have followed her out of his apartment that night, that would have felt great for a change. She'd feel like less of a pathetic, home wrecking whore. But she seems to always be the other woman. How can that be? How can guys fantasize so long about her, and put in so much time and effort, for her to mean so little to them? She throws herself backwards on her bed. _I'll never fucking understand men._


	3. Hearts on Fire

**Puck**

Puck fidgets nervously with the sleeves of his button-up as he waits rather impatiently near the door of his apartment. Rachel had agreed to have dinner with him, and he'd never been so terrified in his life! He felt as if his happiness, the rest of his life depended on how well this night went. His pulse was racing, but he also knew that this was good. He'd never felt so afraid to lose anything in his entire life. If there was ever any doubt in Puck's mind, it was now gone: Rachel was his person. Or whatever. This was his chance to woo Rachel back. He'd court her again, and then when he'd proven himself to her, he would propose. Because, fuck, man, she was it.

Rachel called up, and he immediately buzzes her in. In the time it takes her to make her way up to 418, Puck runs through the apartment, ensuring that everything is perfect. Lastly, he takes the kitchen towel and wipes sweat from his face and hands. God, he felt like some fourteen-year-old kid meeting a girl at the movies!

Knowing exactly how long it would take Rachel to make it to his door, he swings the door open just as she comes into view. And he is stunned into silence. They have not seen one another for two weeks, and he must have forgotten how fucking gorgeous she was, because he all but bursts into tears when he sees her.

Her hair is curly, like the way it is naturally, and pinned up. He loves it that way. She has minimal makeup on, because she doesn't fucking need it anyway. Underneath her off-white pea coat, a blue dress hugs her curves. What he really wanted was to bury his face in her chest, and breathe in her scent as she held him, but that was obviously out of the question, considering their current predicament.

Instead he takes a deep breath and steps forward to embrace her.

The hug was too short for his taste, too long for hers. He releases her and takes her in again. The air between them is thick.

"Hi, Rachel. I've missed you. You look incredible." All his words were simple and exuded sincerity. He wasn't trying to pick her up.

"Hi, Noah. You look good, too." She smiled, and though, it wasn't the "Rachel-Berry-smile," he had missed it all the same, and smiles in return.

"Thanks. Uh-can I take your coat?"

"Yes, of course. Thank you."

Noah deposits her coat on the rack, and touches the small of her back. "Right this way, milady," he says as he leads her to the small dining room table for what he hoped wouldn't be an awkward evening.

 **Rachel**

Noah had prepared dinner for her. She was touched every time he went the extra mile and cooked for her. She found it sweet. After dinner, they'd decided to take a walk a talk a little more. The walk eventually turned towards her apartment, so Puck was walking her home after dinner. Simple enough. Rachel breathed in the chilly air to steady herself. Spending time with Noah after these weeks apart was severely affecting her. He was so charming. He didn't even have to try. But he was. Even more charming. God. She just wanted to be angry with him for a while. But she was an adult. Or at least she was determined to play one in this act of her life.

"Dinner really was delicious, Noah."

"I'm so glad you enjoyed it. I didn't cook enough for you, but that'll change. We ate out too much, Rach." _Agreed_.

Their steps fall into sync, and there was a lull in the pleasant conversation. Their minds race. Who would do it? Which of them would bring up the unpleasant talk? Until now, his evening had had the familiar air of friends or old lovers catching up. There was a slight tension in the air, and neither of them addressed it, but now was the time.

"Rach-"

"Noah-"

They both smile a bit. But both smiles slide from their faces with the seriousness of the topic at hand.

"No Rach, no let, please." He stops under a street light and pulls her off to the edge of the sidewalk with him. Taking her hand, hoping that she can see him, feel his sincerity, he goes for it, "I-I know that I haven't always been the best boyfriend. And that you deserve better. The best, really. You're so…I have no words. Little Star, you're so amazing and talented and beautiful and just _good_. You're perfect, and I've always thought so. When I first laid eyes on you at _Rumba_ , in your Mary Janes, I thought you were perfect. I've broken your trust, and I am so sorry for that. But know, I will never hurt you again." He stares at her intensely and repeats, "Not ever."

And Rachel melts. But she stands tall and schools her expression. "Why did you do it, Noah? If I'm so perfect, why did you feel the need to have intercourse with some other woman?" She pulls her hand back, crosses her arms over her chest protectively, and waits, honestly curious.

Puck does not try to retreat from this question. His eyes remain on her as he voices his thoughts. "I've been thinking on this a lot. I mean, I'd been drinking, but that's not why is happened. And we hadn't had sex in a while, but that's not it either. Have I ever told you about Quinn Fabray?" Rachel shakes her head. Quinn. No. "Well, when I was in high school, I was kind of unpopular. I was always trying to fit in with the jocks, and they let me hang around out of pity or whatever, but I was really just their lackey. I tried to join the football team to help me become popular. It helped a little. But I was always trying to move up, because I wanted to take the head cheerleader on a date. I know it's cliché, okay, but I wanted her to see me. She was nice to me and all, told me I'd make some girl very happy someday…blah blah blah. All the ultimate friendzone bullshit. Anyway, that was Quinn Fabray. The same Quinn who uh…came out of the bathroom that night. So…I guess if I had to say why I did it, it was just my pride. To prove to myself, and to her, that I'm not a loser. She rejected me, over and over in high school, but now, SHE wanted ME. I know it's stupid, but I just want you to know that I didn't just pick up a random chick and decide to sleep with her. And now I know, Rach. I'm not measuring myself by my ability to bag Quinn Fabray, I'm measuring myself by my ability to be worthy of you. You're it, babe."

When he finishes his little monologue, he eyes are a little wet and his breath is coming out urgently. She takes his hand in hers and kisses his palm. They continue to walk in silence for a while, Puck wondering if he's said enough, Rachel wondering the same.

For the first time in a while, Rachel Berry does not know what to do next. She turns to him abruptly when they make it to her place.

"Noah, thank you for trying to make me understand why you did it. I'm hurt. But I can understand pride and wanting to separate yourself from who you used to be. I can't promise you anything, because frankly, I do not trust you anymore. But I'll call you in a few days, and we can talk more. I just can't do anymore of this tonight."

"Thank you for listening, Little Star. Take as much time as you need. Just know, I love you. Always will." He takes her in a hug. This time it is comforting and warm and loving, not nervous and foreign. She sinks into the embrace a little, remembering. When they pull away, Puck places a single kiss on her forehead and motions for her to go inside. She turns away and heads into the building. This feels like a goodbye of sorts, though she hasn't decided yet if she wants it to be one.

Before the door closes she hears, "Dream big, Little Star." She looks back to see Noah watching her from the sidewalk. As she catches sight of his wet eyes shining under the street lights, she realizes that she's never really seen him cry.


End file.
